When I write, I often get fragments that won't develop beyond a paragraph or two.  That happened this year when I tried to write an essay about Christmas.  (I still think my best effort along these lines is "Inner Sense" – click this link.)  Instead of tossing this year's abortive attempts entirely, I decided to throw them together into a random potpourri.  Here they are.

Much of the joy of Christmas is in the anticipation and expectation, but much of the depression associated with it has the same roots.  If our anticipation expresses itself in running about and getting frazzled, all joy evaporates.  If we expect perfection, we set ourselves up for disappointment.

What gets in the way of enjoying the run-up to Christmas is not lack of time or lack of money but state of mind.  We can't enjoy the moment we're in because every bit of energy is directed toward the future.  We don't even have the leisure to relish the moment.  For instance, some stores and malls create elaborate decorations that are well worth admiring, but many shoppers don't even see them, so intent are they on whatever toy or trinket they are buying.

The faces at the mall are usually not cheery.  How much genuine laughter do we hear, even among children?  We are more likely to hear a tired baby wailing or a child screaming from punishment by a frustrated parent.  How many smiles do we see?  Even the pasted-on smiles of checkout clerks fade away as the insanity increases.

A considerable amount of humor is associated with the holidays, and much of it is ironic.  People who get too intense about the holidays miss much of this humor.  When I juxtapose the expressions on most shoppers' faces with the music being played through the PA system, I cannot escape the irony.  While the music plays jolly platitudes about "happy holidays," the people look anything but happy, even desperate.  I suspect that if one were to ask if they're having fun, they would look puzzled:  "What?  Are you nuts?  We're Christmas shopping.  Look at these crowds.  Do you know how long it took me to find a parking space?"  Meanwhile, the music plays in the background – "Happy Holidays" . . . "Joy to the World" . . . .

Many people who never otherwise listen to a melodious old song (without a thundering beat) enjoy Christmas carols.  Even in an age when anything older than last month's top-of-the-rock-chart hit is passé, songs decades and even centuries old have almost universal appeal – even without the words, for we know them already.  I wonder why this is.  Alas, even these old melodies may soon become unknown in their original form, as they are transcribed for pounding drums and wailing electric guitars, with singers who yell more than they sing.  We shall hear simple Christmas songs only in church.

I sometimes look upon outdoor Christmas decorations as revealing the soul of a household.  The more garish the décor, the more suspicious I am of the people who live within.  Such a house is like a woman with too much make-up – tawdry and cheap (no matter how much money was spent on achieving the effect).  To me, simple and tasteful decorations befit the true spirit of the season.

I can't decide which is true:  that the people who design Christmas wrapping paper are artistically challenged or that the people who buy it have no taste.  Every year – and some years, which I dub "ugly wrapping paper years" are worse than others – I see designs that look like drug-induced psychedelic nightmares.  "Who buys this stuff?" I wonder.  Ah, perhaps it is the fellow down our street who always wins the "ugly house" contest for outdoor decorations.

There's nothing wrong with extravagance around the holidays.  It's supposed to be a literally extra-ordinary time of year.  Still, we must not get carried away; there is such a thing as moderate extravagance.  We may buy gifts that are cherished and appreciated without busting the budget for months to come.  Sometimes a small, much-wanted gift has more impact than the costly one.  It's not necessary to cover every inch of the house with lights; a few well-placed lights and some candles in the windows can often be more effective.  We don't have to send Christmas cards to everyone we've ever met; it's enough to send them to family and to friends we really value.

My biggest single Christmas project for more than fifteen years has been to put together a collection of Christmas music, which I then distribute to my friends.  This project is symbolic, in many ways, of the several truths about the holidays.

For instance, I've noticed that, in searching for music for this collection, my best discoveries have come about purely by chance, not because I was looking for that piece or that artist.  Many gems have been hidden in otherwise undistinguished discs.  Thinking back over many Christmases, it does seem that serendipity and coincidence have played a large part in what is most memorable about them.  The truly wonderful moments were not planned; they just happened.

This gift of music also represents the act of passing on the gifts that one has received.  Many years ago a high school band director gave me the gift of an appreciation of music.  Now every Christmas I pass that gift along by sharing the jpy of music with the people I know.

Almost anything that can be said about the holidays has already been said or written – so much so that anything is likely to be a cliché.  Yet somehow every year the old clichés have a way of seeming fresh.